C-Note
C-Note punched the gas in his Lamborghini Reventon, causing the twelve cylinder engine on the million dollars plus car to roar as he sped down the freeway headed back to work. Whenever he drove it, he always wondered if he should’ve and still should get a Bugatti Veyron, which he still thought about getting, and usually came up with the same answer. No. There had only been twenty cars like his build, unlike the Bugatti, and some of them had been wrecked already, which made it even more exclusive. And that’s what C-Note felt like, an exclusive ass nigga. He pushed the Lambo to an easy one hundred sixty miles per hour before he began to slow down to catch the off ramp. As usual horns blew, people yelled, gave thumbs up or nods of approval, while some, mostly women, just stared at the futuristic looking car trying to figure out what it was he was driving. C-Note turned up the volume on his custom Rockford Fosgate stereo system, letting the bass from the three fifteen inch subwoofers garner him even more attention. He knew he was overly flashy, but he loved the limelight. “What’s the point of having money if you can’t show it off?” he always said to others questioning his attention seeking attitude.
Due to all the extra drama that had come with M’Famous Entertainment’s success, which brought about countless groupies, stalkers, and pissed off boyfriends, they’d had the parking lot enclosed. C-Note pulled up to the security gate and punched in his passcode then pulled inside to one of his three parking spaces. Two were already filled, holding his Ferrari F12 Berlinetta and Nissan GTR, so he pulled up next to Smoke’s fully customized Ram 1500. The truck had been a birthday gift from C-Note, and had been upgraded by adding a 600 horsepower Dodge Viper engine, a custom interior, sports rims, and a custom exhaust system.
C-Note made his way inside the building, speaking to various staff members and artists as he headed up to the second floor and straight to the meeting room. A few executives were making their way out of the room, where C-Note knew they had just met with his cousin. C-Note sat in on some meetings, but if they weren’t major, or Smoke specifically asked him to show, he’d rather not attend. He figured Smoke could make good business decisions and he always kept him on top of everything going on.
“Mr. CEO, what’s good?” C-Note said as he sat in a chair and kicked his feet up on the large polished table. “These tricks getting our money right?”
Smoke could only laugh. “Yeah, the quarter report looks good, ‘cept Terror last video went over budget.”
“If his ass made it happen, I’m takin’ that shit out his next royalty check!”
“I know, that’s why I ain’t sweatin’ it. Jag and Calico don’ caught another charge. Marik went and picked up they grandma to get 'em out, but we’ll have to see how this play out.”
“You know my lil niggas go hard in the paint, but check this out, you know they aunt right?”
Smoke nodded. “She they new manager ain’t it?”
“Yeah, and you know we had meeting, and after we rapped and everything, she looked over the new contract…”
Smoke cut him off. “Wait let me guess, you fucked her.” Smoke knew his cousin all too well and could read his body language and tone of voice.
“You always ruining shit. But anyway, I got her to sign the contract, so that’s one thing that’s done.”
“That’s cool, but you know 'bout mixing business and pleasure.”
“Yeah, it becomes pleasurable business,” C-Note quickly shot back, which made both men laugh.
“We got two mo’ pieces of pleasurable business that need to be took care of. First up, we need ya’ boy, Triggamane, to sign this contract,” Smoke said then slid a folder across the table. “We need ‘bout three mo’ albums out of ‘em. I figure he’ll been done burned out by then, but if not we’ll worry 'bout it then. Since he yo’ protégé, I figured I’ll let you holla at ‘em. He love whatever bullshit you feed him, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Don’t be talkin’ bout my lil nigga like that. He just wanna be down, and you know the rumors so watch out.”
“Whatever, that nigga better know his role.”
“Ai’ight, ai’ight, let my nigga make it, but you said two thangs. What’s up with the other?”
“That bitch ass nigga K!” Smoke yelled, his whole demeanor flipping in a heartbeat.
This was the side of Smoke that few saw, and most who did wished they hadn’t, or at the least that it wasn’t directed at them.”
“That faggot ain’t showed up once since he got his signing bonus, and if he do come in this mothafucka I’mma break his jaw.”
“Ai’ight nigga, I got it cause if I let you find ‘em yo’ ass’ll get mad and probably do more than that. We can’t have that though, cause I ain’t trying to be doin’ all this paperwork and shit. I know a few of the spots he hang at, so ain’t nothing to it,” C-Note said and stood up.
“Ai’ight. Call me and let me know how everythang play out.”
“Ai’ight. I’mma handle the pleasure first and then the business.”
C-Note headed to the basement to see who, if anyone, was in the booths recording. Then he went into the lounge area, where he found two members of their street/ security team, which they called the Shock troops. Scoop was about six foot four and two-sixty, and he’d played three years in the CFL before coming back home to Memphis. And then there was Buck, who was all of five foot seven and one forty five. Buck would fight, but he’d pull a gun and use it even quicker, while Scoop was all about muscle and intimidation.
“Muscle and a shooter. Perfect,” C-Note thought as he walked in and gave both men dap.
“Aye mane, I want ya’ll to roll wit’ me real quick. Let’s go visit one of our old friends,” C-Note said to them in an even voice.
Everyone at M’Famous knew how C-Note got down, especially the Shock troops, so the two only nodded and then raised up off the overstuffed loveseat and followed C-Note back up the stairs and out of the building.
“C, we ridin’ wit’ you or what?” Buck asked when they entered the parking lot.
“Naw mane. Ya’ll know I do the two door thang, so ya’ll just jump in one of the trucks and follow me,” he responded without looking back.
Every Shock troop had a key for a car or truck, so they only had to decide which of them would drive. C-Note decided to take his Ferrari since it had the plushest ride of the cars he had on hand, but was still fast as hell. Not wanting to give K a heads up, C-Note chose not to call him or his manager, and would only check his mom’s spot or anyone else who might let him know he was being tracked down last. He got on the expressway and headed toward K’s apartment in southeast Memphis and if he wasn’t there he would try his main girl’s house, which wasn’t too far from there. Fifteen minutes later he was happy to see the alpine white Porsche Boxster he’d helped K pick out parked in front of his building with the convertible top down.
C-Note checked his Glock forty and stepped out of his car and waited until Buck and Scoop walked up to him. “Ai’ight this that nigga K the Kutta spot. I’m here to get an understanding and to repo some shit, so ya’ll know what it is.”
Both men nodded in unison and then they all headed towards K’s door. Once they reached it they could hear a Young Jeezy song playing loudly from inside the apartment. C-Note tried the doorknob and wasn’t really surprised to find it unlocked. He twisted it and let himself in. He walked in to the strong, pungent scent of weed mixed with the various other smells, and the eyes of three men and four half-dressed women fell on him. He knew one of the women was a stripper, and she and the others looked at him and the men with him realizing they weren’t anyone they expected to show up.
C-Note calmly walked over to the entertainment center, where the radio was, but no one else in the apartment moved a muscle, unsure of what may happen next. He turned up the volume louder and began to bob his head and move his shoulders like he was about to start dancing, leaving everyone unsure of what exactly might happen for a moment. When the song came to the chorus, he turned the radio off but kept singing.
“You think you ballin’ 'cause you got a block. He think he ballin’ 'cause he got a block, whaatt. You know you niggas love to see me ball, whaatt. It’s Kutta baby, think they seeing me they hallucinating.”
C-Note stopped moving around and gave K an ominous scowl.
“But nigga I see yo’ ass, and I’on like what I’m see K. But you lucky I ain’t Smoke 'cause he taking this shit real personal. The nigga say he wanna break yo’ jaw, but you’d probably get a arm or leg to go wit’ it. I ain’t on all that right now, cause I’m the one put yo’ ass on in the first place,” C-Note said now flexing his hands in and out of fists.”
“You just got our money and shit, and couldn’t show up for one fucking session, but you rocking my chain and ridin’ clean. You took somethin’ huh?”
“Naw mane, you know it wasn’t nothing like that mane, C. I had strepped throat for like a month and shit, then I was in a car wreck with my cousin. My whole damn mouth been wired up 'til last week, wasn’t it Rell?” K asked one of his partners in a voice calmer than he actually was. He resisted the urge to wipe away the small beads of sweat forming on his forehead, knowing C-Note would home in on his behavior.
“My manager, you know Bird right, he said he was go’ holla at ya’ll to make sho’ everything was cool, and ya’ll knew what was up. He was ‘sposed to been done it, but he out of town. I thought he been done it. I ought to fire his ass, that nigga keep fuckin’ up.”
The thin veil on K’s bad lying flew off when the front door opened and Bird obliviously stepped in with a large box filled with several different kinds of liquor.
“Mane, who fuckin’ Ferrari…” Bird started before he realized that C-Note and the others were there.
“C-Note, wassup?” Bird stated nervously. “I ain’t know ya’ll was coming through.”
C-Note didn’t respond to Bird, but gave K a cold glare, which caused the already nervous K to sweat to the point that it was running down his face.
Drumming up the drama as he always did when someone was being put on the spot, Buck looked over to K. “Aww shit,” he snickered. “Damn you gotta have the worst luck any nigga ever had. You got caught dead in the middle of a lie.”
Unable to think of anything to cover his ass, K could only look from Buck, hating his fucking guts, to a looming and very volatile C-Note.
Looking from the visibly shaken K to a menacing C-Note, Bird only then realized how much tension was in the room. It was also then that he remembered that his friend hadn’t even been to a recording session since he’d gotten the car and a check from the cousins, even though Bird had told him several times that they’d be upset. He recalled how K had arrogantly brushed off his warning, saying how he didn’t give a fuck about the cousins and they could get it how they live. Now he looked at the nigga as he sat as quiet as a church mouse and sweated like a pig at a barbecue. All Bird could do was shake his head subtly.
“I’on know what it is wit’ you punk ass niggas. A nigga try to fuck wit’ yo’ punk ass an ya’ll get to actin’ like bitches. You get my money and call yo’self running off and then you sit yo’ faggot ass here and lie to my face, like I’m the sucka,” C-Note said finally breaking the momentary silence.
C-Note moved from the stereo to the middle of the room and pulled his pistol out. He watched as K’s eyes bulged, and the others in the room began to squirm nervously and inch away from K.
“I was gon’ just embarrass yo’ ass and take my shit back, since I’m the one that put yo’ lame ass on cause I thought you was gon’ keep it real. But since you don’ sat here and tried to play me for a fucking clown, yo’ bitch ass ‘bout to look like the real one ol’ soft ass nigga,” C-Note said and watched with satisfaction as K was visibly shaken.
C-Note could clearly tell that K was trying to find anything to say, but obviously couldn’t. Little did K know he was in for a lot worse. He looked over to Bird and motioned with his gun for him to move closer to the couch where the others were gathered.
“Bird, for real, you need to find a new friend 'cause that nigga just tried to put all his shit off on you,” C-Note said with a smirk. “I’m talkin’ bout, this nigga threw you under the bus, had me thinkin’ 'bout fuckin’ you up.”
He looked over to Buck and then to K. “Buck go in this bedroom back here on the right and look in the closet, you should see a speaker box or two. One of the mothafuckas only got two screws in it. Take ‘em out and get my money and whatever else you find in that bitch.”
C-Note only smiled as he watched K’s look of bewilderment as his eyes followed Buck past him and to the bedroom. K’s confused gazed found its way back to C-Note, who decided to humor the situation.
“Yeah nigga, pillow talk a mothafucka,” C-Note said nonchalantly. “You stroke a bitch the right way and she’ll tell you the secrets of the universe.”
That got a little chuckle from Scoop and caused a mischievous grin to spread across C-Note’s face, while K’s face showed shock and then contempt.
“All righty ya’ll, this ‘sposed to be a party, so it’s time to play a game,” C-Note said then scanned the people in the room, his eyes falling on a tall girl with hazel colored eyes and a large pair of tits. “You, Tittylicious,” he said, which actually made the girl blush. “I want you to take everything worth anything from everybody, and put it in that box of liquor that Bird refuse to put down. Make sho’ you get everything, cause if we go behind you and find a quarter, you gon’ answer to me, you understand?”
The girl nodded and then slowly began going from one person to the next, despite their protests and moaning, and removed everything from wallets to rings. While she was still collecting items from the small crowd, Buck walked back in with a pillowcase clutched in one hand and a clothing store bag in the other.
“Yo’ this this nigga got a PlayStation and X-Box, I gotta get this shit,” Buck said as he walked up to C-Note and handed him the pillowcase. “I did a quick count and it look like ‘bout twenty five stacks, it’s some jewelry in there too. At least the trick didn’t spend it all, and he got plenty of clothes and shit back there too.”
C-Note shot another look and snarled at K as he saw the M’Famous chain around his neck and the watch on his wrist. “He ‘bout to wish he did,” he said almost to himself.
Just then the big tittied girl was moving to K to get the things he had when C-Note stopped her. “Ai’ight Tittylicious, you don’ did enough. I get his shit myself. Take they stuff and put it in that box, then hand the box to that big ass nigga over there. And Tittylicious, write yo’ number down on somethin’.”
The girl did as she was told and then moved back to where her friends were. No one in the room moved or made a sound as they waited to see what C-Note’s next move would be, though everyone could sense that whatever came next would be the worst of it. They all knew they wanted no parts of whatever was apparently a moment or two from happening to K.
C-Note rubbed the point of his gun against the side of his head and made a face like he was trying to remember something.
“I know I’m forgetting somethin’,” he said as he absentmindedly waved the pistol around, causing the already nervous crowd to tense up even more.
C-Note squinted his eyes in thought and then pointed the gun towards K. “That’s what it is," he said to no one in particular. “Aye nigga, where the fuck is my car keys?”
K paused a moment as this overt nervousness made it hard for him to process even the simple question. “Damn, I hope he don’t shoot me,” he thought. He had to clear his throat just to speak. “They on a counter in the kitchen,” he finally mumbled.
“Well get yo’ ass in there and get ‘em, and hurry up nigga, I got other shit to do,” C-Note yelled impatiently.
Though he had been drinking and had smoked a few blunts, the adrenaline tinged with fear in him had him almost completely sobered and he scrambled toward the kitchen as if his life depended on it. In the back of his mind K knew there was a chance that it did. The quicker he got C-Note’s crazy ass out of the apartment, the better, he told himself, so he moved as quickly as he could. For some reason he tried to look somewhat casual as he found the keys and headed back to the living room. A thousand thoughts were passing through K’s mind, so when he walked back into the room, where he heard C-Note talking to the girl he’d named Tittylicious, he had no idea of how to gauge the crazy nigga holding a pistol. K had managed to slip the key to the Porsche off the ring with his other keys and slowed as he neared C-Note. He stretched the key out in front of him, trying to seem unthreatening.
C-Note held out his left hand, which held the pillowcase, as though he simply wanted K to drop the key inside. He watched K’s eyes as they shifted to the bag he appeared to be holding out to him, and once K was in range, he viciously swung the pistol in his right hand catching K on the temple of his head and sending him crashing to the floor.
“This nigga really thought this shit was gon’ be that easy,” C-Note asked more than said to Buck and Scoop, who both simply shrugged.
C-Note tucked the pistol deep in the front pocket of his jeans and walked over to where K was just pulling himself off the floor and to one knee. By the time he looked up, C-Note’s fist was connecting with his face, sending him tumbling back down. K was now only half conscious, so as C-Note rained a dozen punches on his unguarded face, all he did was moved whatever way the powerful blows moved him.
After adding a few good kicks to the ribs, C-Note was mildly satisfied, even though he had the urge to shoot the piece of shit below him. As he stood for a moment to catch his breath a little, he watched K return to semi-consciousness and ball into a fetal position, which made him add another three kicks for good measure. C-Note, and everyone else, watched a dark spot spread between K’s legs, and he became even more disgusted by the wanna be who’d been accepted among them.
C-Note reached down and snatched the chain from around K’s neck. “Take that fuckin’ watch off,” he barked as he placed his food across K’s neck.
With shaky hands, K did as he was told, and began coughing up blood as he felt C-Note rip the watch from his outstretched hand.
The longer C-Note looked at the pissy fraud on the floor, the more contempt and malice he built for him, and in one final act of anger he looked over to Scoop and Buck. “Aye, since I’m in repo mode, I want everything but the couches out this bitch. Clothes, TVs, I even want the blender out this mothafucka,” he said to his two goons and then looked over to the small crowd gathered around the couch. “Ya’ll broads help, but you niggas bet not cough.”
The girls quickly scrambled to do as told and twenty minutes later the Tahoe that Scoop and Buck had rode over in was filled with K’s former belongings. C-Note had even taken the dishes.
C-Note had ordered everyone out of the apartment leaving only himself and K inside, and K was certain now that C-Note was about to kill him. Why? Was he really about to die because he wouldn’t go record a few fucking songs when he was supposed to be a rapper?
K had thought about that and a lot of other things as the five minutes that felt like an hour passed before C-Note finally left without another word. K had laid still for another five minutes after that waiting for C-Note’s return and bullet before pushing himself up to his feet. He staggered as pain shot through his body, and his head felt as though it would explode with every beat of his heart. After a few more minutes he felt like he could move and instinctively as most people did after a fight , he headed for a mirror, all the while wondering why no one had come back to check on him, not even Bird.
K had to blink back stars as the light from the bathroom sent fresh pain stabbing through his eyes. Then he blinked back tears as long as he could once he saw his swollen, black and purple face.
K, at that moment knew he’d never be the same until he killed C-Note. Even though he’d never shot a gun at someone, let alone killed, the cousins could not get away with emasculating him to the point that he’d been that day. They had to pay.